Russia's House
by Bloody-Crazy-Chan
Summary: Sweden has to go to Russia's house to check on him, as he has not been seen for a few months. What he finds in the house is...disturbing to say the least. Human names used. Potentially disturbing content ahead.
1. Chapter 1

Berwald did not want to do this, to go to Ivan's house and talk with him but, sadly, it had become necessary.

* * *

Nobody had seen Ivan for a number of weeks and, Ivan being the Russian representative, it had become difficult to actually get anything done (more so than usual) during the world conferences with him absent.

* * *

Berwald sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter, navigating through the dark and snow-covered back road that lead through the woods to what was hopefully Ivan's current location. He began to go over the current situation in his head.

* * *

The other nations had grown concerned about Ivan long before his sudden hiatus. Ivan, who was usually quite upbeat (and somewhat intimidating to certain others) had started to become more and more distant and, dare he say it, melancholic.

The sudden aloofness had then turned into him avoiding interaction and, as of a month ago, cutting off all contact with the other nations entirely.

* * *

Berwald shook his head slightly at this thought. The last time Ivan had done something like this was just before the official collapse of the USSR.

However, nothing of that caliber was occuring at the moment, which just made Ivan's behaviour all the more odd.

* * *

Berwald knew that Natalya, Katyusha and some of Russia's higher ups had made multiple attempts to contact him, but have had no luck, turning an already concerning situation to one of urgency.

* * *

"If Natalya and I cannot find him, who can?!" Katyusha had been wailing to Eduard, just a mere few hours earlier before Berwald had left.

Eduard's response was to make a suggestion. The suggestion being that the Eastern European and Nordic nations form their own search party and go looking for Ivan themselves.

* * *

This was the reason Berwald was now currently driving along a dark and desolate back road deep within a dense forest at night in the middle of nowhere.

He had been told by Tolys that Ivan owned a property of some sort in this area and that he was known to use it as a retreat for when things got stressful, but had not been there since the collapse of the USSR.

The only trouble was that the property was difficult to access and Tolys, who was the only one who remembered where it was located, had broken his leg two weeks previously and could not go there himself.

* * *

And thus, Berwald was given this task, guided by Tolys's voice on the phone.

* * *

"Can you see any small roads on your left?" Tolys asked, Berwald's phone crackling on loudspeaker as he did.

"Ja, slightly ahead. 'Round 50 metres" Berwald replied.

"Good. Turn left and go straight down there. It should be around three kilometres down there until you get to the house." Came Tolys's response.

* * *

Berwald complied and steered his car carefully down the path.

Somehow, the forest was even more dense here, leaving the surroundings near pitch black, barring the car's headlights lighting up the road some couple of metres in front of the car.

The whole scenario, coupled with the scenery, made Berwald slightly nervous, though one could not tell due to him having his usual stoic expression.

* * *

He would not admit it out loud, but he had sorely wished that he could have brought Tolys along with him.

Berwald did not know Ivan very well outside of meetings, wars and hearsay and, if there was a chance Ivan was here, there was a real possiblity of him reacting violently to his presence due to those factors.

At least with Tolys here there would be somebody that Ivan was more familiar with.

Alas, it was not possible. And thus, Berwald had to press on alone.

* * *

 ** _Authors note: Gah! Sorry about the lines here. For some reason, this site keeps eating my line breaks and without them the whole fic looks like a wall of text!_**

 ** _Name key._**

 ** _Berwald: Sweden._**

 ** _Ivan: Russia._**

 ** _Tolys: Lithuania._**

 ** _Eduard: Estonia._**

 ** _Katyusha: Ukraine._**

 ** _Natalya: Belarus._**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hold on, I remember something." Came Tolys's sudden statement, breaking the silence and making Berwald jump slightly in his seat.

* * *

"Yeah? What is it?"

* * *

Tolys took a deep breath.

* * *

"There should be a sign on a big tree close to the house. I think Raivis put it up because he kept getting lost. It should say something along the lines of "Home"."

"Oh. I'll keep an eye out." was Berwald's quiet response.

* * *

The drive continued in silence, broken only by the sound of the car's engine and snow crunching underneath the tires.

* * *

No more that a few minutes later, Berwald spotted a well-weathered wooden board nailed low down onto a large pine tree.

The writing had been faded by decades of exposure, but Berwald could just make out the lettering that had been painted on.

 _"Home"_

* * *

 _"I guess that's the sign"_ Berwald thought to himself.

"Found it." He noted.

"The house?"

"No. Sign."

"Okay. The house is not far from there. Just keep going straight and you'll see it." Tolys instructed.

"Mmph."

* * *

As Tolys had said, the house quickly came into view.

From what Berwald could see, the house was quite a large, run down looking double storey, made of concrete and stone with a sloping shingled roof and surrounded closely by tall pine trees, cloaking it in darkness.

Which made it all the more obvious that the lights of the house were on, shining beacons of warm light into the cold and dark surrounding forest.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: Yay! Second chapter! I'm still trying to figure out formatting for this site.**_

 _ **What do you guys think is going on in Ivan's house? Is he even there?**_

 _ **Name key.**_

 _ **Raivis: Latvia.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Berwald's eyes widened behind his glasses in realisation.

 _'I think he's here.'_

He brought the car to a halt near the trees.

* * *

"Tolys, I found it." He stated.

"You have?" Came Tolys's chirping response.

"Yes. Lights are on. I think Ivan's here." Berwald shot back.

"What?! Can you see him?!" The urgent tone was evident in Tolys's voice.

* * *

Berwald let out a breath that he did not realise he had been holding.

* * *

"No, I can't. Gonna go 'nd check."

* * *

Tolys began spluttering.

"J-just be careful, okay?! Don't go spooking him! You don't know what he might do and I'm afraid he'll get violent!"

* * *

Berwald grabbed the phone and unlocked the car doors.

* * *

"Okay. Gotcha. I'll try not ta spook him. I'll contact soon."

And with that, he hung up.

* * *

The newly found silence settled heavily inside the car like a heavy down quilt.

Berwald used this as an opportunity to sit and gather his thoughts before he decided to get out of the car.

* * *

 _'If he's got all his lights on like that, he most likely is awake right now.'_

* * *

He open the car door slowly. getting hit by the sudden rush of cold air.

* * *

 _'He could potentially be or become hostile towards me.'_

* * *

On that thought, Berwald opened the glove box and retrieved his torch and his handgun, sitting safely in it's holster.

After checking that the gun was loaded, he put the holster on around his waist securely, hiding it underneath his thick winter coat.

* * *

 _'I do not know what he is doing inside.'_

* * *

He slowly stepped out of the car into the thick blanket of snow that was covering the road and turned the torch on.

* * *

 _'I do not know if he is armed'_

* * *

He shut the car door with a loud bang.

* * *

 _'I do not know how he will react to me'_

* * *

Berwald began to slowly trudge through the snow towards the house.

* * *

 _'I've got a bad feeling about this.'_

* * *

He got to the concrete front steps of the house and began climbing the long flight up to Ivan's front porch.

* * *

 _'This whole scenario is just too odd.'_

* * *

Berwald took a tentative step onto the snow free porch and arrived at the front door.

He looked up nervously at it, though, once again, it did not show on his face.

* * *

Standing there now, Berwald could hear some faint music resonating from the inside of the house.

It was cheerful music. Almost too cheerful, in a jarring contrast of the current situation at hand.

It would be quite funny or even welcoming if the whole atmosphere around the place wasn't so...off.

* * *

Knowing this and despite that, Berwald took another step closer towards the door and, with bated breath, took hold of the heavy door knocker and rapped it sharply against it's holder.

* * *

There was no response.

Instead, the door just swung right open.

* * *

To say that Berwald wasn't expecting that was an understatement.

* * *

 _'What? He just left it unlocked like that...'_

* * *

The intense feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, which had been there when he arrived, grew heavier.

He knew what he had to do, despite this. He was here to check on Ivan and see if he was okay. He had to. The other nations depended on it, regardless of his feelings.

Berwald took a deep breath and, against his better judgement and his gut feeling that was screaming at him to get away from there, stepped inside into the dark foyer of Ivan's home.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: Here we go! Berwald should really listen to his instincts, they are there for a reason.**_

 _ **But, then again, if he did, we would not have a story.**_


	4. Chapter 4

The foyer was dark, warm and tidy and surprisingly narrow, considering the size of the house.

As the yellowed carpet was clean and dry despite the snowy weather, it didn't look like anyone had come in through the front door in quite a while.

* * *

Berwald took it as sign that Ivan had not gone outside or had anyone visit recently and he pressed on.

* * *

Walking further in, he noticed that there was also a strong smell of cooking potatoes that permeated throughout the room.

Since Berwald was now within the house, he could hear the music more clearly. It was the song 'Brown girl in the ring', though who was singing it, he could not tell.

* * *

He saw light coming through the door at the end of the foyer and walked tentatively towards it and into the next room.

* * *

The room Berwald then came into was the brightly lit kitchen. He was about to enter it when he spotted something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

* * *

There, standing in the kitchen, were Tolys, Raivis and Eduard, standing as still and as silent as statues.

* * *

"Uh..." Berwald stammered. He wasn't sure how he should react. Why were the Baltics here?

* * *

 _'Hold on, they shouldn't even be here. They can't be here! What the hell...?'_

* * *

All three had their backs to him.

Eduard was sitting at the kitchen bench, with what looked like a cookbook resting on the bench between his arms. He had his head bent downwards, as if reading intently.

Raivis was standing on a chair, peering into the cupboard. His head and most of his torso was within the cupboard, like he was searching deep into it to find something at the back.

Unnerved, Berwald walked forward, past the bench and into the heart of the kitchen.

* * *

 _hissss~_

* * *

Berwald jumped and snapped his head in the sound's direction in shock.

And saw Tolys standing still at the stove, gingerly holding a wooden spoon over an overboiling pot of long past overcooked potatoes.

* * *

 _'What...? What is this? What the hell is going on?'_

* * *

Berwald stepped a little closer to the frozen in place Tolys.

"Tolys...?"

Berwald gently put his hand on his shoulder, with no response.

"Ah.."

He grabbed Tolys by the shoulders and spun him around so that they were facing each other.

And promptly discovered why the Baltics were so still and unresponsive.

* * *

Berwald gasped.

 _'A doll...?'_

* * *

All three were dolls. Cold, big eyed, life sized dolls.

They were clearly well made and cared for and would have been quite pretty to look at, but, coupled with their lifelike size, facial features that were a tad too stylised and perfect to be real and the fact that they were very close to but not quite looking like the actual living, breathing people they were clearly based on, it just made them look more like well-preserved and posed corpses.

The Tolys doll's green, lifeless eyes stared back blankly into Berwald's own, unmoving, unblinking.

* * *

"What the fuck?!"

* * *

Berwald let the doll drop down onto the floor with a loud clatter and backed away from it slowly, clearly unnerved.

* * *

 _'What the fuck is this?! Why does Ivan even have dolls like this?!'_

Berwald thoughts were racing around in his head and he was close to actually freaking out. Why would Ivan have dolls like this? Why were they there? Who made them? For what purpose?

Berwald almost did not want to find out. He backed up into the next room, leaving the creepy dolls behind him.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: Yep. Creepy dolls. I headcanon that Sweden does not like dolls at all, especially big ones.**_


	5. Chapter 5

Unfortunately, the next room, which appeared to be the dining hall, was not much better.

* * *

There were more dolls there, all sitting at the table.

What seemed to be some of the Asian nations were sitting quietly at the table, with the obvious exception of Yoong-Soo, who was clinging onto the arm of an unimpressed looking Yao.

They all appeared to be waiting for their food and making quiet small talk.

* * *

In stark contrast, Sadik, Mohammed and most of the other Middle Eastern nations were seated at the opposite end of the table and appeared to be having a heated debate about something, hands raised up in the air and pointing at each other.

A Heracules doll was standing behind them, leaning nonchalantly against the wall and watching the action.

* * *

All in all, not an unusual diorama. But one that lay unnaturally still and quiet.

It felt wrong. So wrong.

* * *

The heavy dread feeling in Berwald's stomach grew even heavier, to the point where he felt like he was going to burst.

He began to run, through the door that lead to the lounge room.

* * *

In the lounge room, once again, there were more dolls, sitting on the couches and the floor, this time and watching the loudly blaring television.

* * *

 _'So that's where the music was coming from'_

* * *

Berwald noted, spotting that it was playing a children's program, a video of 90's era Wiggles.

* * *

The dolls of what seemed like the younger micronations were seated around it on the floor, being watched by an unamused looking Arthur doll sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea.

* * *

He looked back at the micronation dolls and saw, much to his sheer discomfort, that there were dolls of Peter and Oskar.

* * *

The Peter doll was leaning gently on a Paula doll's shoulder, as if sleeping.

But it was lying so quiet and so still, contrary to the actual Peter, who would shift around and make small noises, even during sleep.

The Paula doll just stared ahead at the television regardless, much unlike the actual Paula, who would usually complain about the sudden breach of personal space and immediately push Peter away.

The doll of Oskar was sitting splay-legged on the opposite side of the Paula with it's head and chest slumped painfully forward to the point where it's head was almost touching the floor.

Like with Peter, the silence and stillness, coupled with the contorted position of the doll were unnatural and eerie.

This all made Berwald feel uneasy and somewhat disgusted.

* * *

 _'This just isn't right...'_

* * *

He knelt down closer to the dolls and, not wanting to even wanting to look at them directly, grabbed them both by their shirts and propped them up so that they were sitting upright.

At least in that position they would not look so much like they were lying dead on the floor.

* * *

The Peter doll suddenly fell backwards.

Berwald, perhaps operating on a parental instinct, quickly seized the doll by it's hands to stop it from hitting the floor.

* * *

He would soon come to regret that action.

* * *

"GoOd MOrnInG mR RuSsiaaaAAAaAAAAAAAA-!"

* * *

The unholy distorted screech erupted from the fallen doll.

* * *

Berwald let out a startled scream in response, let go of the doll and bolted from the room.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: What's worse than a creepy life sized doll? A creepy life sized doll with a broken voice chip from the 1980's.**_

 _ **It sounded something like this (warning; creepy barbie toy and loud audio):**_ ** _https:~/~www . youtube . com~/~ watch?v=mdvj4TK46fg (skip to 1.57)_**

 ** _And yes, the Wiggles did do a cover of the song 'Brown girl in the ring' all the way back in 1995. It's from their 'Big Red Car' video, which is what Russia decided to put on the television for the micronation dolls._**

 ** _Name key._**

 ** _Yoong-Soo: South Korea._**

 ** _Yao: China._**

 ** _Sadik: Turkey._**

 ** _Mohammed: Egypt._**

 ** _Heracules: Greece._**

 ** _Arthur: England._**

 ** _Peter: Sealand._**

 ** _Oskar: Ladonia._**

 ** _Paula: Wy._**


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't dare look back. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it made him feel dizzy.

* * *

 _'WHY?! JUST, WHY?! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS GOING ON?!'_

* * *

Despite this, he continued running thought the house.

* * *

As he did so, he sprinted past a variety of other dolls, all frozen in place and posed in a eerie mockery of the nations that they were made to represent.

Through another door.

Through another room.

Over and over.

More and more dolls.

* * *

In the hall, a slightly grey looking Roshawn doll holding a soccer ball and appearing to be discussing it with the Vargas brothers dolls.

Past a spare room with a Basch doll having tea with a Lilli doll, tea cups held forever halfway off the table.

In a study room, a Gilbert doll bothering a Roderich doll sitting at a piano and an Elizabetha doll coming up behind it with a frying pan raised over it's head, mid-attack.

A Carlos doll pulling a Matthew doll up into a big bear hug in yet another hallway.

A Feliks doll standing by the wall, the household's landline phone held against it's ear.

A Lukas doll strangling a Matthias doll with it's own tie while an Emil doll facepalmed next to them.

* * *

 _'Wait, what?!'_

* * *

Berwald stopped in his tracks and, horrified, went back to have a closer look.

* * *

Like the others, these dolls looked corpse-like and unnatural, their standing positions not helping any at all.

* * *

The Lukas doll had his eyes half lidded, in a poor attempt at rendering Lukas's usual bored expression. In it's hands, it held the Matthias's doll's tie so loosely it looked like it would slip out of them at any second.

The Matthias doll wasn't much better. It was bent over forwards towards the Lukas doll and appeared to be on the verge of losing it's balance with even the slightest touch. It's eyes were shut and it's mouth was open, as if gasping for air.

The Emil doll had it's hand held up over it's face, appearing to be facepalming. The illusion was ruined by the fact that the hand was quite clearly hovering a good deal away from it's face.

It's violet eyes were staring through the gaps in it's fingers, lifeless and unnaturally cold.

Colder than it had any right to be.

* * *

Berwald fought down the, now almost irrepressible, urge to destroy the dolls that looked so much like his friends and yet looked as if they had been dragged up from the depths of the uncanny valley itself and continued to run, though where he was going, he did not know.

* * *

In his panic, he had become completely lost in Ivan's hellish, labrynith-like home.

* * *

"Eheheheh~ Almost finished~!"

* * *

A childish, playful voice rang out. Once again, Berwald froze.

The voice was Ivan's.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: Taking a trip into the uncanny valley was not what Berwald expected to end up doing when he agreed to check up on Ivan. Poor thing. Also, no wonder they could not call Ivan via the landline, Poland is hogging the phone!**_

 _ **Name key.**_

 _ **Roshawn: Cameroon.**_

 _ **Vargas: Shared surnames of both the Italy brothers.**_

 _ **Basch: Switzerland.**_

 _ **Lilli: Liechtenstein.**_

 ** _Gilbert: Prussia._**

 ** _Roderich: Austria._**

 _ **Elizabetha: Hungary.**_

 _ **Carlos: Cuba.**_

 _ **Matthew: Canada.**_

 _ **Feliks: Poland.**_

 _ **Lukas: Norway.**_

 _ **Matthias: Denmark.**_

 _ **Emil: Iceland.**_

 _ **Wow, that is a lot of names.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_'Oh god, he is here'_

* * *

Berwald, aware that this was well against his better judgement, walked forward and began following the source of the voice, which did not seem to be very far away from where he was.

* * *

 _'I'm going to regret this...'_

* * *

He just had to find Ivan. Maybe, just maybe, there was a rational explanation for all of this.

* * *

"You're going to be all fixed when I finish with you!"

* * *

Ivan's voice chirped, unseen.

* * *

 _'Who is he talking to?'_

* * *

Berwald eventually got to a closed door at the end of a hallway, which appeared to be where the voice was coming from.

He took a deep breath.

* * *

 _'Well, here goes nothing.'_

* * *

And opened the door.

* * *

The room that Berwald came into next was set out like a waiting room, with yellowed white chairs lined up against the walls and a low table with magazines spread out on it in the centre. A grey door with a curtained window sat at the opposite end of the room.

Berwald, however, noticed none of it.

All he could see was another doll in the waiting room.

One that was, to his sheer horror, unmistakably one of himself.

* * *

The Berwald doll was neatly dressed in a blue coat and hat. It was sitting quietly, with it's hands in it's lap and it's head looking down in their direction, looking as if it was waiting patiently for something.

* * *

"What...?"

* * *

Berwald got closer to it and sat, shocked, on the floor in front of it's feet.

* * *

The doll stared coldly down at him. No, right through him.

* * *

It was a near mirror image of Berwald. But one that was cold and lifeless. And, like the others, it was well made and appeared to be loved dearly.

* * *

Looking closely at it now, it soon became clear that the dolls were hand made and with great care.

Barring the obvious limitations on facial expressions and movement range, it seemed though someone had studied the nations that the dolls were based on very closely, like an artist painting a portrait.

And every little small physical detail had been lovingly and accurately rendered in life-sized form, from the light freckles that were dotted along the noses of Matthias, Peter and Emill, to the way the odd hair curls of certain nations hung in the air, to even the odd perma-stubble that nations like Sadik and Francis were constantly sporting.

And, naturally, the Berwald doll was no different.

It seemed that every physical thing about Berwald himself was now rendered and creepily presented in that doll. From the unintentionally intimidating poker face, to the stick straight posture and tall stature, the eyes that were an odd shade that was not quite green but not quite blue either, the light and faded sprinkling of freckles on the cheeks, the way that the hair was arranged, everything.

So many little things that were exactly the same as the actual living and breathing man that was now currently sitting, freaked out, in front of it on the floor.

* * *

Berwald knew that Ivan was very fond of the arts and could easily do something like this, which raised more questions.

* * *

Could Ivan had possibly made the dolls himself?

* * *

And why?

* * *

Whatever the reason the dolls were there and for whatever purpose, it was clear that Ivan loved them very much, Berwald realised.

Almost like family.

* * *

"Why?..." Berwald whispered incredulously, reaching a gloved hand up towards his inanimate copy.

* * *

"Just... why..?"

* * *

 _-Bang!-_

* * *

The grey door swang out with a thud, revealing a rosy cheeked and smiling Ivan.

* * *

Holding the detached head of a Tino doll in his arms.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: Oh dear.**_

 _ **Name key.**_

 _ **Francis: France.**_

 _ **Tino: Finland.**_


	8. Chapter 8

Berwald shot up into a standing position, hand flying to his holster.

* * *

Ivan just looked at him, glassy-eyed and smiling.

Berwald froze in place, terrified.

* * *

 _'Oh god. I think I'm going to be sick...'_

* * *

He could not take his eyes of the doll's detached head. The doll of Tino. His beloved.

Berwald felt positively ill at the sight.

* * *

Ivan began to laugh merrily.

* * *

"Berwald! You were supposed to be waiting for me and Tino to finish up!~" He sang.

* * *

Whether he was talking to the doll or Berwald, nobody could tell.

Berwald took a few steps backwards, his hand now on his pistol and ready to draw.

* * *

To his dismay, Ivan moved forward, almost completely closing the gap with only a few strides.

* * *

"Looky here!~"

* * *

Ivan lifted up the Tino dolls head and pushed it into Berwald face. He could see his own horrified reflection in it's hollow glass eyes.

* * *

"He isn't even finished yet~!"

* * *

Ivan's syrup-like voice called out.

And he began to laugh again, like a little child.

* * *

Berwald couldn't help it.

He screamed, louder than he ever had done in his entire life and bolted from the room, away from the crazy Ivan and the creepy dolls in the waiting room.

* * *

Ivan watched him go, still smiling vacantly and holding the Tino doll's head in his outstretched arms.

* * *

"Oh." Was all he said.

* * *

He lowered his arms to a more natural position.

* * *

"Well then..."

* * *

Ivan turned to his right, towards the Berwald doll and gently placed the Tino doll's head in it's lap.

* * *

"I'll be back really soon, okay?" He stated softly to them, lovingly smoothing out the Berwald doll's hair and re-positioning it's hat.

* * *

He turned towards the door from which Berwald had left and, with that, Ivan calmly strolled out of the room.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: And this is the shortest chapter yet. Hooray for terrified Sweden! There really should be a lot more of that in fanfics.**_

 _ **The grey door actually leads to Ivan's workshop. With the waiting room there, it's set up like a doll hospital of sorts. The Berwald doll was waiting in the waiting room for Ivan to finish fixing up the Tino doll. (aww).**_


	9. Chapter 9

Berwald no longer cared that he was lost. He was freaking out now and all he wanted to do was escape.

Escape from this house, escape from Ivan and escape from those god-forsaken dolls.

* * *

He ran and ran and ran.

* * *

Through hallways and miscellanious rooms that Berwald did not even register.

* * *

Past all the dolls, knocking many down as he went.

* * *

He was in the dining room, catching his breath when he heard Ivan calling out to him.

* * *

"Berwald~!"

Ivan's voice rang out throughout the house.

* * *

"GO AWAY!" Was Berwald's terrified answer.

* * *

"Come back~!"

* * *

Berwald looked behind him.

To his horror, Ivan was standing in the middle of the lounge room, still serenely smiling, just five metres away from his position.

Berwald felt the blood drain from his face.

* * *

"NO!"

* * *

He took off again like a scared rabbit.

And Ivan, much like a hunting dog chasing a scared rabbit, pursued him.

* * *

"Ber-waaaald~"

* * *

Berwald shot through the kitchen, past the now burning stove with the Tolys doll still sitting in the position he left it in, now melting from the heat and exposing the inner workings of it's face.

He knocked into the chair that the Raivis doll was standing on, sending it clattering to the floor.

* * *

It lay on it's side and through it's now shattered eye, it watched the two men go. Berwald now racing out of the kitchen, with Ivan close behind.

* * *

Berwald turned the corner into the now snow covered foyer and practically threw himself out the open door and into the cold night air.

* * *

"Please come back~!"

* * *

He ran across the porch, heading for the long flight of steps which led down to the ground.

To his car.

To safety.

* * *

Sadly, it was not meant to be. Berwald took a wrong step onto the ice covered steps and slipped.

* * *

 _'Argh! No!'_

* * *

And fell head first down the long flight of concrete steps, mercifully blacking out about halfway down.

* * *

 _ **Authors notes: Ouch... Looks like somebody forgot that the steps were iced over. Poor Sweden. Also, another short chapter.**_


	10. Chapter 10

"You gave me a big fright, you know?"

* * *

Ivan set out the tea cups on the table for himself, Berwald and Berwald's copy.

He looked down at the floor, apologetic.

* * *

"I honestly did not mean to make you scared like that" He continued on, pouring tea into the cups.

* * *

Berwald did not respond, but continued to make eye contact with the other man.

It was understandable if he did not feel like talking; he had fallen painfully down the outside steps and it was all because of Ivan. And besides, Berwald already was not much of a talker, so the silence was not unexpected from him anyway.

* * *

"Ah" Ivan murmured quietly, looking at the other man's attire, a short sleeved pink nightgown with buttons near the neck and lace on the hem, not unlike something which an older lady would wear.

* * *

"Sorry about the nightgown. Your clothes were wet and I had no other thing to dress you with." He apologized.

* * *

"It is _siestra's_. I do not think she would mind."

* * *

Ivan stared at Berwald. The other man had his left arm up in a sling and bandages around his neck and head due to the fall.

This visual, coupled with the pink nightgown, would usually be quite hilarious, as Berwald was quite a severe looking man and, thus, this attire was quite unfitting for him.

However, the seriousness of the situation, naturally, seemed to suck out any humour that it may have had for either of them.

* * *

Ivan sighed at Berwald, violet eyes scanning the injured man with a tangible amount of guilt.

* * *

"I'm very sorry. Perhaps I should not have chased you."

* * *

Berwald still did not respond. Ivan, at this point, assumed it was due to the concussion and continued talking.

He suddenly broke into a grin.

* * *

"It is okay! You will stay here for a while and you will get better!" Ivan cheerfully stated.

* * *

"I will look after you and we will both be happy! Yay~!" He cheered, pulling Berwald into a tight bear hug.

* * *

To an outsider, this looked like two men, perhaps even brothers, one giving the other a cuddle.

Ivan was still smiling and he pulled Berwald tighter towards him.

* * *

And to this Berwald would usually respond back somehow. Hugging back, or pushing away or even saying something along the lines of "get off me".

But he did not.

* * *

The deathly pallor of his skin and his eyes, clouded over in death and staring blankly over Ivan's broad shoulder, made it abundantly clear that he never would.

* * *

 _ **Authors note: And there we go. Final chapter. Poor Sweden (again).**_

 _ **Russia is actually really out of it and has been for quite some time, to the point where he treats the dolls (and Sweden's corpse) as if they were alive (or still alive in Sweden's case).**_

 _ **I imagine that the dolls in the house look**_ ** _somewhere between hyper realistic androids and ball jointed_** ** _dolls._**

* * *

 ** _I've actually found some pictures that are very close to what I was imagining. These pictures were 1980's era 3d reconstructions of_**

 ** _unidentified people (john and jane does) from the United States. Very much in the uncanny valley._**


End file.
